


let him be scared of me

by TheEagleGirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, and their wedding scene makes me soft, i just...love them, look sigorn is shy around alys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 10:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17020758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEagleGirl/pseuds/TheEagleGirl
Summary: Sigorn tries to steal Alys before their wedding. It doesn't go quite as he planned.





	let him be scared of me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Wildling Weekend, hosted by @asoiafrarepairs over on tumblr! Also I love Alys and Sigorn and just want them to have more fics. 
> 
> Check out my edit for them [here](http://visenyastargaryen.tumblr.com/post/181113240893/visenyastargaryen-alys-do-you-swear-to)

His wife-to-be greets him with a solid punch to his jaw, which was far more than he’d expected from this slip of a Southron girl. Sigorn’s face hurts, and he feels the blood where his teeth cut into the inside of his lip. Perhaps she shows some promise yet.

“ _ You?  _ What in the name of the  _ gods _ do you think you’re doing?” she demands in a heated whisper, fists clenched at her sides. “How did you get past the guards?”

“From the window,” Sigorn says, pointing. The language feels thick on his tongue, but he persists. “It’s not that far.” 

Alys--her name is Alys, Sigorn has been turning it over in his mind all day, since the kneeler king and Lord Crow had called Sigorn in with their offer--places her hands on her hips. She is a sight, hard anger clashing with the softness of sleep that still lingers on her face. “Why are you here? And if you don’t answer me this time I’ll call for the guards and they  _ will  _ throw you into an ice cell until the wedding.” 

“I’m stealing you,” Sigorn says simply. He hopes his ears aren’t reddening, and is glad for the dark. 

Her eyebrow twitches up. It’s the left one. That one twitch communicates to Sigorn just how utterly unimpressed she is with him.

“I have no idea what you’re speaking of, this  _ stealing _ , and I doesn’t care much for the sound of it. Besides, you can’t take me anywhere, if that’s your idea. We’re in the middle of Castle Black. If you run South, King Stannis will come after you. And North...” she trails away.

“It isn’t running. It is tradition,” Sigorn explains. “Do Southroners not have the stealing?”

The girl crosses her arms. “I’m  _ Northern _ ,” she says. “Didn’t Jon Snow tell you  _ anything _ about me? You’re not ‘stealing’ anything.”

“I have to steal you,” Sigorn insists stubbornly. “Before we marry.”

Alys huffs out a sigh. “What is stealing?” she asks, with an exasperated look. 

Sigorn wishes his common tongue was better than it is, but his people speak the old tongue the way their ancestors did. He wishes he could explain it well enough to her, to make her understand his role in stealing her, and hers. The words don’t come out the way he wants them to, though. Instead, he says, “Stealing makes you mine.”

Alys stares at him for a long, hard moment before shoving his outreached hand away. “No,” she says fiercely. “I’m  _ mine. _ My uncle wanted to claim me too, you know, and I wouldn’t let him. I don’t--I will not--ever belong to anyone, even if we marry.”

“It makes me yours as well,” Sigorn adds hastily, and his ears are burning hot now. “Man and wife.”

Alys looks skeptical. “You mean this is how wildlings marry?” she asks. Her eyes dart to her pallet, off in the corner, and when she turns them back on him, they are cold. “No. You will not have me until we are wed.”

Sigorn curses in the old tongue. Blast this woman, can she not understand? “Not that,” he says. “I have to  _ steal _ you. Nothing else.”

As a boy, he’d tried to steal his sister’s friend, Kisa. She had been bigger than him, three years senior at seven and ten, had nearly gelded him, scratched and bit him till he left, defeated. That was how stealings were supposed to go, not like this--having a debate in the dark.

“Oh,” Alys says. “Well, I’m tired. You can say you stole me, if that’s what this is about, and no one will be the wiser. Just leave my chambers and we can laugh about this later.”

Sigorn sighs, makes to cross to the window. This Southron girl is too different, just as he’d feared. By the time his fingers wrap around the frame of the pane, he’s resigned himself to a life of misunderstanding, of this girl who will not understand him. 

Her voice stops him, before he leaves.

“This is important to you?” The question is soft, and when he looks back, she is looking right at him, eyes assessing.

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

Sigorn considers how to answer. “Because the Red Witch wants to marry us before  _ her _ god,” he says. “But this is how wildlings marry. I want to keep something of my people before I give it away.”

For a moment, there is silence and heat between them. Sigorn is aware of every inch of her scrutiny, of the way her gaze changes at the end, appraising. He thinks she can feel his eyes on her too, the weight and intentions behind them. She understands, he thinks, when the corner of her mouth quirks up and she says, lightly, “Steal me, then.”

  
  
  
  


He takes her to the kitchens. It’s one of the few places that isn’t swarming with Black Brothers, wildlings, or kneelers at this time of night. Now that she’s less irritated with him, Alys’s eyes sparkle with something akin to mischief. 

“Testing my abilities as a cook before we’re wed?” she says, a smile in her voice. “Smart man.”

She’s pretty, Sigorn thinks, watching her rummage through a pantry, in a fierce way that wouldn’t seem out of place beyond the wall. Thin, smaller than expected, but his stinging jaw knows the power behind her blows. Sigorn thinks he wouldn’t mind marriage to this girl, fighting for her. 

“Are you angry?” he asks. “That you have to marry me to get your castle back? That we have to marry by this red woman’s god?”

Alys stops, turns to him. “Angry isn’t the word I’d use,” she says warily. “I’ll do what it takes to get Karhold back.” 

“That is not an answer.” 

Her jaw clenches. Sigorn can barely see the expression in the dark. “It’s the answer that matters. Marrying you, taking that woman’s god...it will be worth it if I can get back what is mine by right.”

Sigorn supposes that’s all he’ll get from her on the matter, with her eyes blazing like that. He nods, clears his throat. “I think you have been stolen enough for tonight,” he tells her. “Are you ready to go back?”

Alys studies him. “Not just yet,” she says. “You’ve stolen me. Perhaps I get to steal something from you now. It’s only fair,” she adds, at his puzzled expression.

Sigorn opens his mouth to tell her  _ no _ , it doesn’t work that way, she doesn’t need to steal  _ him _ , but is stunned into silence as she steps forward and presses her lips to his. 

She’s grinning when she pulls away, eyes glinting in the light. “Now I’m ready to go back,  _ husband _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please leave a comment/review below!


End file.
